


Cold

by Gadhar



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man (Movies), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Tony Feels, implied childabuse, random comic characters thrown in, really sporadic posting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gadhar/pseuds/Gadhar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony keeps people at an arm's length, he always has and always will. Right up until some Super Soldier moves in and wants to be friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Capsicle is a'comin'

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to post warnings chapter by chapter, so you'll be pre-warned if things get particularly nasty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own one single thing other than the story plot. All characters and whatnot belong to the Generalissimo, Marvel Comics, Disney, and whoever else is so awesome they invented this stuff.

There is no doubt that meeting Captain America was all Tony thought it would be- boring and annoying. All anyone talked about growing up was how Captain America was so great, how Howard Stark was so great, and how Tony needed to shape up otherwise he would no longer fit the mold of a real Stark, or a real American. In the end, he never did, but Tony Stark doesn't fit into molds, he breaks them. 

So while the team's buzzing around like 3-year-olds on a sugar rush- even Fury has a little bounce in his step- Tony does the opposite, mopes- well not mopes because Tony Stark doesn't mope- and locks himself away in his lab. Captain America could come in streaking with icicles dangling from his nose and it wouldn't make any of it worth it. Cap's nothing more than a boy who let people experiment on him to turn him into a big boy, that's it. 

Still, despite all his disinterest, when Pepper comes banging on his door yelling that Fury wants him upstairs to meet Mr. America himself- and really why are they even at his house? He doesn't remember ever agreeing to a Capsicle celebration-he can't stop the tiny prick of excitement that burns in the back of his mind. But let's be clear that's the scientific part of his mind- the one where the cat has tried and failed too many times to kill the curiosity- so of course he's mildly curious as to how a human- no, Super Soldier- will act in his unthawed state after being frozen for forty or so years. Plus, if going to meet the guy means JARVIS will stop saying 'Ms. Potts would like entrance and your attention sir' every five minutes, Tony's all the more for it. 

Now he's standing in front of Cap, hand wrapped in his, and they're just standing there, in dead silence. They're in the middle of a handshake but Cap won't let go of him, his hand squeezes a fraction tighter every time Tony tries to pull away, he can literally feel his bones cracking and aching under the pressure. Cap is as white as a sheet, and if he wasn't giving Tony the look he was, Tony would chalk it up to still being a bit frozen. But right now the man looks like he's seen a ghost. "Uh Cap? I don't know how they did it seventy years ago but in this day and age we shake hands and then let go. It's only really supposed to last a second or two." Tony gives an awkward smile- a thought nagging at him that he'll have to deal with later- and Cap's eyes widen as he nods, and pulls away, albeit a little reluctantly. However, Mr. Patriotic does live up to the age he was raised in and puts those useful old fashion teachings in practice, manners and all, and blushes like a little school girl. 

'That must really get the ladies going' Tony banishes that bitter thought away when he notices everyone's staring at him and the Capsicle. If anything, it's awkward, even more so since Tony is usually more than happy to have a few sets of eyes on him. The silence only gets more intense and Cap doesn't stop looking so modest. He's blushing and hiding his face- it's ridiculous. Tony mutters something vulgar (much to the relief of the others) and hurries back to his lab without another word, cradling his hand to his chest.


	2. Living Legend's Don't Live in Trash Apartments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Tony has a bit of an emotional breakdown here. And Steve is not one for personal boundaries. Also, hide your sandwiches.

A month later and his hand finally stops hurting, it was never broken only bruised and maybe 80% of the pain was phantom sensation, but it still hurt like hell. Tony's glad it just stopped.

The awkward moments with Cap haven't stopped though. The Avengers team works together fine, and Tony's even a bit surprised at the cohesion of a unit he and Cap seem to possess. They can easily pair up and create a plan, follow it to a T, and then if things get rough, it's simple to improvise and send the changes on down the line- no problem. Cap was supposed to be the leader, and really he is, but at the same time he's more of a co-leader with Tony. Cap actually listens to him and Tony never realized what that felt like since no one’s ever done it before.

So, to be more precise the awkward moments with Steve haven't stopped. Fury wanted the man to have a bit of freedom, have time to get 'acclimated' to this society since everyone knows the forties don't exist anymore. Fury's great plan was to have Steve shack up with him, in Stark Towers, in his freaking penthouse. He actually has to share. Tony Stark doesn't share...not unless he wants to and he sure as hell doesn't want to.

Living with Steve is like living with each Founding Father and a walking, talking, living embodiment of the Constitution. The news is on every television, and every five seconds Steve is spitting something about someone's rights, and laws and justice and blah, blah, blah. It's obvious he has issues with this world, this time. He can't believe half the problems the USA alone is dealing let alone the world nor can he believe the lack of action towards any of the situations. Ask Steve about anything and Tony can easily say the man has an answer; such a simple answer that in no way would work, but everyone wishes it would just so Steve would shut up- or maybe that's just Tony.

Then there's the fact the guy won't stop talking to him. Every time Tony gets up it's ‘Good morning, well afternoon. You should really take better care of yourself, quality sleep is important.’ 

First off there's no such thing as 'good morning' for Tony and half of America gets up after noon, it's how things are done. Throughout the day it's worse. Steve is always trying to strike up a conversation, tries to follow him into his lab, always trying to get to know him. It's creepy. Steve just can't seem to pick up on the fact that Tony doesn't like him, at all. He doesn't want to be friends, or pals, or buddies, or acquaintances; he can't even stand living with the guy!

Aside from that, the man eats everything. All the specially made sandwiches Tony had prepared for his personal consumption were gone in two days, who the hell eats thirty sandwiches in two days? Mr. High-as-Hell-metabolism apparently.

Now Tony's a prisoner in his own home, holed up in his bedroom hiding from Steve with his custom Starkphone in his hand scrolling through the contacts. He settles on 'The Big Cheese' and dials, impatiently waiting for the person to pick up.

"Fury."

"He has to go!"

"Stark? How'd you get this number?"

"What does that matter? What matters is the Capsicle, I cannot live with him. You have to put him somewhere else."

"And where do you suggest I put him? A trash hotel in Brooklyn?"

"Yeah, sure, anything's better than here."

"He's a living legend Stark, I can't put him just anywhere. What's your problem anyway; he's a nice guy, even to you."

"That's just it, he's too nice, and he won't leave me the hell alone! How am I supposed to work with that huh? Build all those secret weapons you want?"

"Stark, you don't even build the weapons now. Is this because Steve ate all your sandwiches?"

"Well yeah but that's not the only reason, he-"

"I don't care Stark. I'll get you more sandwiches, other than that you have nothing to complain about. Now lose this number."

The line went dead and Tony huffed, throwing himself against the headboard, pouting. He should've known Fury would take Steve's side, he practically worships the guy. Tony sighed and chucked the phone at the wall, groaning in annoyance when the thing didn't shatter- why did he make it indestructible?

"Sir, Captain America is looking for you. He's coming-" A thump stopped Jarvis mid-sentence and Tony jumped as the bedroom door fell in, dropping to the ground like a felled tree. "This way." Jarvis finished, and Tony flashed him a glare in no particular direction since Jarvis was everywhere.

"Would've been better off calling 'timber' Jarvis." Tony spat, glaring at where the door used to be, where instead Steve stood with that annoying innocence, hand in mid-knock.

"Uh sorry, I-"

"'Don't know my own strength.' Yeah I know. What do you want?" Steve visibly flinched at the harshness of Tony's voice. Tony would almost feel bad if he cared, if anything, it was a small victory.

"I wanted to talk." Steve is suddenly serious and Tony can feel a lecture coming on, he's sat through enough of those to know it's not something he wants to do again.

"Yeah well I don't." Tony yanked his shirt off the chair and started for the door, he could already feel anger boiling up. He couldn't even have privacy in his own room!

Tony didn't expect Steve's arm to shoot out and shove him back onto the bed, in fact he was shocked by it. "Fine. Listen then." Steve blocked his view of the door, towering over him with a seriousness in his eyes that kept Tony from moving even though that's what he wanted so desperately to do. "I don't know what your deal is Stark. You obviously don't like me, and you know what- that's fine. I've decided I don't like you either. I gave you a chance and no, it's not working. But we're part of a team; we can't be against one another like this."

"Then leave me alone, it's not that hard."

"I can't do that either. Fury won't put me anywhere else, I'm stuck here. Since we're both living here we need to learn to get along. Eventually our hatred will make it onto the battlefield and I can't have that."

"I don't care, you leave me alone and everything will be fine." Tony went for the door again and Steve's hand clamped down on his shoulder like a lock, forcing him back into sitting on his bed. It got even worse when Cap decided to sit down next to him.

"You're my teammate, like it or not. I can't just leave you alone. We need to at least try and make this work Stark." Steve's hand still gripped his shoulder, tightly, and Tony could feel the numb setting in, the familiar fear. A knot twisted in his stomach and he started to sweat, this was a serious violation of personal space.

Steve kept talking; his voice became a solid drone in Tony's mind. He could feel Steve's eyes burning a hole in the side of his face, he was sweating more and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. Tony found it hard to push down the overwhelming urge to scream, to hit Steve and run. He could feel his nerves stretched tight, the clamminess of his skin, he needed to get away. Steve was a solid weight though and Tony felt paralyzed, stuck. The tension was starting to build up, the seconds felt like minutes, the minutes, hours and Tony clenched his fists in an attempt to calm down. This wasn't the same; this wasn't his dad, or Obadiah. He was fine; he just needed to convince his body of that.

The messages weren't getting through, and Tony could feel his mind slipping into a dark place. He couldn't hold out much longer, his silent pleas of 'leave me alone,' kept running through his head, but nothing made it to his lips, he was ready to burst. "Stark? Stark are you even listening?"

"Leave me alone!" Tony screamed and pushed himself away from Steve, falling to the ground before scrambling to his feet. He immediately felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, his chest; he no longer felt totally trapped or like he was under someone's thumb. He couldn't stop shaking though, and Tony mentally cursed himself for that.

"Stark, are you okay?"

"Stop calling me that! My name is Tony, Tony. Stark. I am not my fucking father so stop calling me that!" Tony could feel the panic fading immediately into anger and humiliation, he lost control again, couldn't remember where he was, that he was safe. Usually it was only the nightmares he had to deal with; he never had a meltdown in front if people. But this time it wasn't just people, it was Captain America, Captain-fucking-America, and he looked like a total wimp.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"I don't care. Just shut up! Just leave me alone, okay? Leave. Me. Alone. I'm going to the lab." Tony stormed out the room, his face burning. He tried to look angry and nothing else but when he reached the lab he couldn't stop the silent tears from falling.


	3. Howard Stark Interferes....Even From the Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never make plans of attack without information.  
> Dedicated to jkbat and Djedereshotep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am HORRIBLE.  
> I know.  
> You don't have to remind me.  
> Actually no, go ahead tell me, I deserve it.  
> Not posting for weeks, really, I know, just BAD. I am a horrible person
> 
> I suppose I owe an explanation, so uh long story short- I don't have a computer. Yep, havem't had one for going on 8...9 years(?) now. I do have a phone, which I'm slowly figuring out how to post from. SLOWLY. I think I've got the basics finally. Anyway, it's easier to do from a computer.  
> Thank jkbat fot being a dear soul and not letting this story die.

Steve can't sleep. Too many times he's awoken during the night only to be unsure why. It's his fifth cup of coffee tonight and the New York skyline at night brings about a charming ease of mind. It doesn't serve to completely calm him though, just helps put things on the back burner.

On a daily basis Steve has quite a few things circling around his head, at the top of the list is this thing with Stark- wait Tony. He's got remember that if he plans to get anywhere. Before he was set on just tolerating the man, working with him when needed but otherwise avoiding any unneeded confrontation. After the other day though Steve's got a whole other motive. He's back to where he started, wanting to get to know Tony. 

Tony is making that near impossible though. Before, Steve was lucky to find him out of the lab for a few hours, now though Steve's pretty sure Tony hasn't left in three days. Steve doesn't like the guy but he's had a nagging feeling that the man he's been dealing with the past few weeks isn't the actual Tony, rather some kind of shell to hide in. He's run the scenarios and it's the only one that fits with the way Tony acted the other day. Of course Steve is operating with only a few pieces of a very large puzzle.  
Now maybe it's the striking resemblance Tony has to his father, Steve's old friend, or maybe it's his good ol' American heart but Steve's concerned, worried even, about Tony. That conversation keeps playing in his head.

_"I just think we have a good chance at being friends Tony, if we try. I was friends with your father, you're a lot like him- the technological genius, the strategies- you're smart, just like him. I don't see why we can't overcome our differences. Stark? Stark are you even listening?"_

_"Leave me alone!"_

How did he not notice it? Tony was crumbling, right next to him, collapsing even and he didn't even notice. Was he really that wrapped up his own speech? How own thoughts? His own desire to make his dealing with Tony easier?

_"Stark, are you okay?"_

_"Stop calling me that! I am not my fucking father so just stop calling me that!"_

Or was it Howard? It wasn't some secret that Steve was friends with the guy, was it because of that friendship he refused to see Tony for who he really was? It's something that he has to admit. Ever since he came here Tony hasn't been Tony, he's been Howard Stark's son. Even in his own mind Steve has to correct himself when he accidentally calls Tony Howard or refers to him as Stark. He may be one but even Steve knows Stark refers only to Howard no one else.

Steve gritted his teeth, frustration taking over his thoughts. He knew he was missing something, something big but he couldn't figure out what it was. Steve needed to talk to Fury, he needed more information, something to work with. Tony certainly wasn't going to talk to him and even if he did Steve has a feeling the guy wouldn't be very open telling him about whatever it is is that's wrong between them nor would he let Steve in on how Howard's life went after he went down in the Arctic. Howard seems to be unstable ground period.

But Fury, Fury would have files, he'd be willing to give over any info and right now that's what Steve needed to most. Never make a plan of attack without information.


	4. Fruity Pebbles Stockers Deserve Raises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve broke him. It was official. Five minutes in a room with the guy and Steve _broke_ him. Shattered him so bad even the Fruity Pebbles weren't helping.  
>  Dedicated to jkbat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Tony feels ahead!!  
> P.S. I also mentioned Black Bolt in here, cause he's AWESOME. So props to the amazing Stan Lee and Jack Kirby for creating him. I could babble about Boltagon for awhile, but I won't.

Tony slammed his hand against the door’s electronic lock, using it as leverage as he struggled to even hold himself up. 72 hours in the workshop wasn’t his smartest idea but there weren’t many other viable options. Besides there was work to be done; toys to be made for little SHIELD agents, suits to be upgraded and small common man problem solvers that needed to be prepped for mass production. It probably would’ve gone a lot faster if he didn’t spend the first day as a sniffling mess and then the second day as some drunk idiot. But hey, that’s the healing process.

Tony stretched onto his tiptoes, hand grabbing blindly for the Fruity Pebbles Pepper always his in the back on the top shelf. It was Tony’s favorite cereal and by default the one and only thing he would eat for days on end, something Pepper disapproved of. She always said if he didn’t stop hiding behind those bites of fruity deliciousness he was going to grow fat. She’s right, however she’s also sympathetic and that’s why she leaves it out of direct reach- and therefore obvious temptation- for the days where Tony fees like shit and needs a bowl of smiles. Like today. The fact that there were at least three full, unopened boxes, sitting in the cupboard just waiting for him well…Pepper definitely earned a raise for keeping the place fully stocked. 

“Would you like some assistance sir?” Jarvis inquired when the milk carton slipped from what Tony thought was a firm grasp, slipping to the floor and spilling out continuously as Tony went through a few failed attempts to pick it back up. Sleep deprivation was fuzzed the edges of his vision messing with his depth perception.

“Nope, I’ve got it.” Tony grinned triumphantly as he kept a solid hold on the milk while trying to fill his bowl a second time. His first thought was to enjoy his cereal on the sofa in front of the ridiculously sized television, but a couple shaky steps later he found it hard to just move and instead slid down against the cabinet, content just to sit on the floor and eat his Fruity Pebbles.

“Are you sure sir? I can call Captain Rogers, he’s not-“

“NO! Hell-fucking-no. Jarvis, do _not_ call him, never him.”

“If you say so sir.” Jarvis sounded somewhat annoyed and even more disconcerted. Tony blew out an irritated stream of air at that, Jarvis had no reason to get his virtual panties in a twist.

“Where is that boy scout anyway?” Tony grumbled, stirring his cereal, watching the twisted tornado of color. His appetite was suddenly gone. 

“He went off early this morning, didn’t say where to but I took the liberty of tracking him in case you were interested sir.” Tony grinned, Jarvis was the best buddy ever.

“I’m very interested.”

“Very good sir. It seems he’s traveled to SHIELD HQ, looking specifically for Colonel Fury.” Tony’s interest dropped almost completely. Fury? What the hell was he doing with Fury? If there was a mission for the Avengers he would have been informed right? It’s not like they don’t need him.

“There weren’t any calls for me when I was in the workshop was there?”

“I’m sorry sir there wasn’t. No communication from SHIELD specifically at all.” Tony glared, he hated the way Jarvis seemed to read his mind sometimes. But at least it saved him from having to ask the question himself.

“How long has Rogers been gone?” Tony set the bowl down on the ground next to him, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, resting his chin. The sudden burst of anger had taken whatever energy he had left. He wasn’t even hungry anymore.

“A little over five hours sir.” Tony sighed burying his face. There was no way he would be visiting Fury for five hours for no reason. There was a mission, there had to be. And he wasn’t called in. How unfair was that? He basically supported SHIELD and the team single-handedly with his own money and he was a co-leader for Pete’s sake. How could they not call him in on a mission? It was probably Steve, that pompous ass probably told Fury Tony was on some drinking binge again, hidden away in his workshop in an all out drunken stupor. It would be something Steve would do.

Tony wasn’t sure where this sudden hatred of the Captain was coming from but here it was. He sure as hell didn’t like the guy but he never knew he hated him, not until now. It’s probably because of what happened the other day. Tony bit his lip trying to keep from remembering too much but that had to be it. Steve had pushed the personal boundaries too far so Tony snapped and now Steve was getting back at him.

Captain America wasn’t the type for petty revenge though was he. Tony would have been more than happy to believe he was but his logical mind wasn’t ready to accept that, wasn’t ready to let Tony take some childish approach to all this. But damn his scientific mind, for now he was going to act like a little kid. It made things easier to deal with and for once it applied to this situation. His issues with Steve weren’t his fault, not at first at least. It wasn’t until Steve kept denying Tony the privacy and independence he practically clinged to for dear life that he started doing things just to piss Captain America off.

“Sir are you alright?”

“Fine Jarvis. Just a little tired. I have been working for 72 hours straight; the coffee is starting to wear off.”

“Actually sir, you’ve been working for exactly 100 hours, 53 minutes. You’ve been awake though for 101 hours, 7 minutes and 26, 27 seconds.”

“What?” Tony’s head snapped up looking at the nearest camera that was essentially, for the purpose of getting him something to look shocked at, Jarvis. “You’re kidding.”

“No sir, I am not ‘kidding.’ Quite frankly I do not see any humor in the matter whatsoever.” Tony ignored him, much too preoccupied with the task of getting his jaw off the floor. 101 hours, that’s over 4 days. That’s a record, even for him. He never felt exhausted though, not until he stumbled up the steps to get some much-needed nourishment. When did he eat? And more importantly, he could only remember three days, what did he do the fourth day? Or was he missing a day in between?

“Wow.” Tony murmured, staring at the puddle of milk from earlier that he neglected to clean up and losing himself.

“Wow indeed.” Jarvis huffed.

Tony couldn’t seem to shake off the shock or the deep-seated worry he had for no apparent reason. He was reckless, crazy even, with his own health, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew to take at least a few minute breaks, he also installed protocols into Jarvis that would keep him from working himself to death. Neither of which had been used in this situation. Why was that? It wasn’t a hard question to figure though. The protocols only enact if Tony’s vitals drop or if he starts doing weird things, Jarvis is programmed to look for that, which means that neither of those things happened. And the only time Tony’s ever managed to work so long and not really register anything that he was doing is because he was mad, pissed really. But that only ever happened with Howard or Obadiah, when their words had cut too deep, when their fists had broken too much or when…other things happened.

Rogers had broken him, shaken him. He had beat Tony down without really having to anything and Tony can’t believe he let the man get to him like that. It was his house, his world, his freaking timeline! Steve didn’t fit into any of it yet he managed to usurp Tony from the little comfort he had and leave him out to dry, to burn and crumble. Steve Rogers, Captain America, had torn apart whatever Anthony Edward Stark was and left sniffling little boy Tony in his place. And even though it had happened without any real witnesses other than Jarvis and himself- Steve probably wasn’t even aware of the damage or at least didn’t care- Tony couldn’t help feeling like the world had just crashed down around his ears. Like Black Bolt had told him to shut up and murdered him with the words. He was ashamed, embarrassed and worst of all shoved back into and stuck in the same damn hole Howard Stark had kicked him into all those years ago.

“Sir?”

Tony shivered, shifting; he didn’t realize how cold the floor was. Jarvis’s voice was lost above him. This arm was wet with tears, sweat or snot or maybe all three but Tony didn’t care he just sat there in silence, curled up thinking about how he fucked up and lost again. Now he really did wish Black Bolt would come in here, say a few comforting words and turn his brain to mush. It would be so much easier.


	5. The Devil's Hands Reach Far

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dreams provide no sanctuary for Tony, quite the opposite really.  
> Final dedication to jkbat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright um creepiness ahead I guess. We're really getting into the dark stuff a little here. Not dark-dark, more like allusions to it....or something.  
> P.S. Bonus thanks to jkbat for bringing this 3 chapter installment.  
> Special Thanks to Djedereshotep for being the first person to comment on this 3 set post.  
> And thanks to everyone who's read/commented/gavekudos on this story in general. I love you all.

Hands.

Hands grabbing at him from all angles. Hands that were rough and gentle at the same time, calloused yet smooth. Just disembodied hands that did nothing but wrap around his legs and waist, his arms and neck. Pulling at him yet holding him down.

There were so many hands. 

Tony clawed and tore at them, but every time his skin touched theirs he was momentarily paralyzed; frozen with a solid fear that dropped deep into the pit of his stomach, balling up and making itself at home. But then he'd gain control again, if only for a second, only to find that his efforts were useless, his hand could never wrap around the wrist of the other hands. All it did was pass through, get caught in the shadow of the hands. Nothing was solid.

And they all whispered to him, in soothing, clear voices, that chimed like a bell one second and screeched like a dying cat the next. Each voice seemed to have it's own power, wrapping around him, soaking through him, instilling a new fear upon his heart that the hands themselves could never hope to do. And every time it was the same screeching-cat-bell-tone voice. Whispering violently in his ear. 

_Relax Tony._

_It won't hurt Tony._

_Come here Tony._

_It'll be alright. It'll be fun._

_Just stay quiet._

_We love you Anthony._

Over and over and over again. The whispers were broken records with the volume jacked way up. Somehow being quiet and loud at the same time.

And Tony could do nothing. 

He was determined to do something. He struggled and fought against the hands, twisting and turning, all his limbs bending at strange angles as the hands forced him down and apart. He didn't stop though, he fought on, using the burning pain that flared in his muscles to urge him on. He didn't want to go back there again. He couldn't. He wouldn't make it back the next time.

It seemed he didn't have a choice in the matter.

The whispers turned angry the more he struggled, tightening around his limbs, his throat, cutting off his air just as one particularly slippery hand snaked down his throat, wrapping around his heart and crushing it slowly, agonizingly. Tony could feel his heartbeat speeding up, a bullet train flying down the tracks ready to bust through. He tried to move, to twist out of their grasp but they stopped him; pressing him down and immobilizing him completely. Even as he told his muscles to move, and the strain he felt proved they were, they wouldn't actually do it. It gave the whispers his full attention, except they weren't whispers anymore, they were yells, shouts.

_Hold still brat!_

_Man up and stop crying._

_It can't possibly hurt that much._

"Tony!"

_Stop lying!_

_You worthless bastard child._

_No one wants you._

_I don't want you._

_I **never** wanted you. _

"Tony! Stop!" 

_You killed her._

_You killed me._

"Tony!"

_This is your fault!_

_Your fault._

_**Your** fault._

_Your FAULT!_

"TONY!"

The hands suddenly released him, slinking away. Tony pushed himself up, coughing, choking, sobbing. The light hit him in the face like a hammer, burning his eyes, sending a wave of nausea through him.

Tony threw himself from the bed with practiced ease, his stomach turning against him as he retched onto the floor. The meager amount of Fruity Pebbles staining the carpet, that was the only food he'd eaten in days.

Tony dry heaved after that for what felt like hours. The lingering cold across his skin contested with the fire in his belly and throat. He couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop fucking _shaking_. He was dimly aware of another person in the room; a solid weight on his back, breath rolling down his shoulder, around his neck. It was too much like the shadow hands, wrapping around his throat and Tony fought the urge to just scream and run.

But this person offered warmth, warmth in his hand and his breath, their very presence gave off a radiating heat.Tony was vaguely thankful for the effort; it didn't cut through the cold though, nothing would, not for awhile.

Tony leaned back on his knees, wiping the sweat from his forehead only to have it drenched again as soon as his hand left. He collapsed onto his side, shivering. It was so cold, so damn cold. They always left him in the cold. 

A wool blanket wrapped around him, the ends being tucked underneath. The fabric rubbed at his back in an irritating fashion but Tony was thankful for the distraction. He narrowed his eyes as his nostrils flared, the distinct smell of puke shoving itself in his nose made him turn away, coughing through another wave of nausea. 

Then arms wrapped around him, big strong ones with sturdy muscles and Tony knew it was Steve who was watching his pathetic display, then again, who else would it be? He was lifted into the air, swift and graceful. Tony couldn't see much, just the tiles on the ceiling passing by as his vision swam. He wanted to fight and get as far away from Steve as possible but he was too exhausted to do anything, the most he managed was a strangled cry that came out as more of a soft groan. 

Then he was laying on something flat, soft. He was on his side, clutching the blankets in a white knuckled grasp. Someone's hand wiped his sweaty bangs from his forehead before carding through his hair. It was calming, soothing, and the cold that seemed to have taken permanent residence in his bones weakened and lessened, bit by bit. And for that alone Tony was willing to ignore the fact that it was Steve at his side. 

A few more runs through his hair and Tony couldn't keep his eyes open any longer. They slammed down on him, blocking out his view of the wall. Tony couldn't suppress the shudder that ran through his body. He willed his eyes open, he couldn't sleep, not now. They would be back. They'd come back and drag him away, he wouldn't make it back. He'd lose, he'd-

"Shhh, Tony. It's alright." Steve's voice broke through his thoughts, shooing them away like a cloud, easily dissipating them. Was he talking aloud?

"I-I c-can't Steve. I can't. They'll come, I k-know it."  
"No, no it's okay. No one's going to come."

Tony jolted, his hands flying up to bat away Steve's. Steve caught his wrists though, forcing them down and inside the blanket with a gentle firmness. "No one is coming. I won't let them."

"You, y-you can't st-stop them."

"Watch me." Steve released one of his wrists then, moving his now free hand back to Tony's hair, carding through it once again. Meanwhile the hand still on Tony's wrist moved to grip his hand, a welcomed anchor. 

Tony could feel the exhaustion tugging at him again, his eyes sliding closed no matter how much Tony fought them. But each run through his hair weakened his resolve, each rub of thumb against the back of his hand sentenced his protests into silence. "Sleep Tony. Just sleep."

Tony again went to protest him, but Steve silenced him with a shush and all Tony's strength was gone. Even if he wanted to stay awake now he couldn't. Instincts told him to stay awake, to fear, but everything else- his mind, his heart, his body- told him to sleep, to rest. It was three against one so Tony slept. The darkness was an embracing warmth this time, not a strangling cold strangling cold.  



End file.
